This is the 33rd instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. I still remember the first day I landed in the UAE in 2009. Dubai airport was sparkling clean, spotless. Outside, there was a fancy air-conditioned van with a smartly uniformed driver waiting to pick us up. As he cruised through the wide and clean roads effortlessly, I thought to myself that the driver looked more like a pilot. But reality soon hit. It was past 3 AM, and the scene outside started looking dirtier and dimmer as we drove further away from the airport. We had reached our labour camp and were dropped off in a dingy part of the city. This was our reality, not the glamour and the glitter of the first impression. At 18, I, too, had come to work in the country as a cleaner to add to the sparkle. Despite the disparity that quickly became evident, I found a sense of warmth in the way the Nepalis at the camp welcomed us. There were no cups, I cannot recall why. But the dais cut water bottles in half, and used the lower half to serve us tea with bread. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/finding-a-niche-in-nepal">Finding a niche in Nepal</a>, Babare Bahadur Bomjan  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_326d17bbffedb8976f6d683175327188fa8674025e58a56217ba935fcbde0e53.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20230528120552_326d17bbffedb8976f6d683175327188fa8674025e58a56217ba935fcbde0e53" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  They went out of their way to feed us after our long journey as they told us about our new home. I will never forget their 4 AM hospitality. &nbsp;&nbsp; As I was brushing my teeth after waking up, uncertain about what awaited me, I heard someone shout out my name. It turns out two of my school friends were already working in the same company for two years. What were the odds, I thought. I had finished Grade 12 and landed in Dubai to work so as to better my life. I used to get jealous of the village boys who came home from bidesh every two years or so for a month to relax and splurge money. It was one of those acquaintances on vacation who had advised me to make my passport. Like other Nepali youth, this was my foreign dream. My father was getting old so I had to assume responsibility of a provider. My induction training in Dubai, even for a cleaning job, was three weeks long. I had not thought of cleaning as a professional job, but here, it was being taught like it was a science. We were not going to mindlessly scrub floors, we were required to have a deeper understanding of the chemicals and cleaning tools. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/wounded-in-the-line-of-duty">Wounded in the line of duty</a>, Antare Khatri  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_3f46ed3a561e53d6023428e6baefce013098e025882249b8b320a2702a72c589.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230528120552_3f46ed3a561e53d6023428e6baefce013098e025882249b8b320a2702a72c589" data-rendition-name="original" width="960" height="692" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  I learnt a lot and as I scored over 80% in my assessment exam, and got placed in hotels. Those who scored lower had to work in office buildings and malls. At the hotel the manager had been secretly watching my work. He was obviously impressed because when a supervisor left he offered me the job. At just 20, I was unsure if I was up for the task as I would have to manage people significantly older than me. But I took a chance and was promoted from cleaner to supervisor. Over the next nine years in the UAE, I worked in about six hotels. I could not stay put in the same place for long because once the work would start getting repetitive, I wanted to move on to better things. From a normal hotel to a five star and subsequently to a luxury five star. I was also getting a degree in tourism on the side at an Indian-affiliated open university in Dubai. I did not manage to attend all classes because of my hectic work schedule, but I knew I needed the credentials for my future so somehow managed to complete it. My last employer in Dubai was Fairmont. Working at a five-star hotel has its perks. It is more professional, the staff is more competent. The managers had significantly better skills and experience that made you want to emulate them. There were also a lot of training opportunities. Lessons from books like Emotional Intelligence and Who Moved My Cheese? were taught in ways that injected Fairmont's values in our blood. I enjoyed my work and even got the 2018 Manager of the Year award, something I had never even dreamt would happen. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/i-went-to-earn-and-learn">“I went to earn and learn”</a>, Nawaraj Shrestha  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120556_db73120f959e11e19fd626e9de4fd44c9c835ff45db50fd8ebc4f94480a4bed9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20230528120556_db73120f959e11e19fd626e9de4fd44c9c835ff45db50fd8ebc4f94480a4bed9" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="794" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  &nbsp;At a get-together at a colleague's home, I saw a wall that was full of pictures from all over the world. I asked my friend's husband what countries he had been to. He laughed and said, "Perhaps it would be easier if you asked me what countries I have not been to." Indeed, as a flight crew, he had traveled the world. That was a turning point in my life. I had been stuck in one country for nine years, when there was a whole wide world out there. I made it a point to look for jobs that would allow me the same kind of mobility so I could broaden my horizon. Within a month, I identified a recruitment drive in Dubai for a cruise ship and passed the interview. I was to work on an Italian cruise ship as Assistant Chief Housekeeper. &nbsp;I remember the mixture of excitement and nervousness I felt when I first saw the ship at the dock: it had over 1,250 guest cabins and 800 crew cabins. It was so gigantic that when I tried to take pictures, the ship would not fit on my screen. My colleagues laughed at me saying it was a relatively small ship by industry standards and that they had worked in much bigger ones. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230528120552_1a4b4d075d8cfc9262fd9564cf6213e38942bf9dc17351eac418eb35114f8c2c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230528120552_1a4b4d075d8cfc9262fd9564cf6213e38942bf9dc17351eac418eb35114f8c2c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1293" height="1725" loading="lazy" alt="DD 33"> </figure>  Life onboard is busy. Most of our guests are older people from all over the world who have the time and the money to travel around. As we hustle around the clock, it is easy to forget that we are in the middle of the ocean because the vessel is a world of its own. It does not matter where we are, really. Whether in the middle of the desert or ocean, we are working day and night to make money and provide for our families. Regardless of land or water, our lives revolve around that one day every month when we get our salary notification in our cell phone, this is what all this hustle is about. Everything else is secondary. I have now sailed to over 45 countries across the world in 17 months. It is like reading the review of a 300-page book: you just get a little taste of what those countries have to offer. At every port stop, we get to see the few main tourist spots, visit a couple of malls and have a meal before we hop back on to continue our journey. &nbsp;I make it a point to get good Indian or Nepali food, something I miss on board. But now that I am married, I am restless again. I am not as excited about traveling and meeting new people as I have been. My longing for home, to be with family, is growing stronger by the day. I can feel my priorities shifting, and it is just a matter of time before I act on it. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf">For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

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Diaspora Diaries

Mountain to desert to ocean

This is the 32nd instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. I have worked overseas for nearly two decades, hopping around the Gulf countries from Saudi Arabia, UAE, Qatar to Kuwait. I even landed up in Seychelles. I came to Nepal twice but left again for better earnings overseas. After my SLC, I started working as a waiter for a salary of Rs450. I was also a sportsman, and worked as a wushu trainer. When a friend who had returned from Singapore came to visit me, he inspired me to go abroad for a secure future. Until then, I had not considered moving overseas. I handed him my freshly minted passport and he applied on my behalf. Before I knew it, we were both headed to Saudi Arabia to work as trolley boys in 1996. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/wounded-in-the-line-of-duty">Wounded in the line of duty</a>, Antare Khatri  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023052205050_45812962b472daa81dec9f69b756188be6cfb80e64b9e460a1e73b2985523d91.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2023052205050_45812962b472daa81dec9f69b756188be6cfb80e64b9e460a1e73b2985523d91" data-rendition-name="original" width="1083" height="747" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>Babare Bahadur Bomjan in Nepal in 1992 when he was earning rs450 per month.</figcaption></figure>  My starting overseas earnings was just Rs13,000. By the time I returned in 2011 from Dubai, I was earning up to Rs400,000 a month in a managerial position. But after all that time being away, I no longer had a reason to linger around overseas. My family was settled, and I was financially stable. It was time to go home. After returning, I worked in a café for some time but I wanted to start something on my own. Having grown up working in the hospitality line, starting a restaurant seemed like a natural next step. Momos were the obvious choice, but I knew I had to do it differently to stand out. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/i-went-to-earn-and-learn">“I went to earn and learn”</a>, Nawaraj Shrestha  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023052205050_fdc410dc9f999914de3bf8f89206735a23e1f71434e37f3b9d24006a09e58365.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2023052205050_fdc410dc9f999914de3bf8f89206735a23e1f71434e37f3b9d24006a09e58365" data-rendition-name="original" width="1157" height="777" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>In 2001, Bomjam ended up in Lemuria Resort in Seychelles.</figcaption></figure>  My research showed that extremely spicy Korean ramen noodles were very popular among young Nepalis. This was the niche I could fill in the momo market where customers could adjust their spice levels. I chose a name that would stick: ‘Akbare Jhol Momo’. We sourced akbare chilis directly from farmers to keep costs low so it would be affordable for common people. Rent is high in Nepal but during the pandemic lockdown, I lucked out even though it was a risky move given the uncertainty. It has now been three years, and we are doing well with three outlets in Kathmandu. The restaurants are always busy with people enjoying the hit that the hot chili gives them, without causing a dent in their pockets. My hunch about the demand for spicy momos in Nepal was fortunately right. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023052205054_a73ca0028b726536664f9fd65e7b944bee9c293d430aedbb17ab502a4e036e31.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023052205054_a73ca0028b726536664f9fd65e7b944bee9c293d430aedbb17ab502a4e036e31" data-rendition-name="original" width="1244" height="802" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>Bomjan was working in Pizza Inn in Qatar in 2004.</figcaption></figure>  Everyone wants to go abroad these days. There are Nepalis who earn over Rs1 million there and those who earn only Rs30,000. The struggle is much harder if we go overseas without any real experience and skills, which later also impedes our ability to climb the career ladder. We now have good hospitality management schools in Nepal where people can get degrees in the field. With the right education and experience, more Nepalis will make it to leadership positions not just as chefs, but also in front of house positions. I returned to Nepal despite a handsome salary. Being home brings a sense of comfort and satisfaction that I cherish. I am around family, provide youth with jobs, am connected with my community and get to follow my passion. The overseas journey had been full of missed moments and sacrifices. Right after my marriage in 2002, I had just spent 19 days with my wife before returning to Dubai. When I met my eldest daughter for the first time, she was already three months. These were at a time when phone calls were still expensive. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf">For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023052205050_b1c455e455b7441525af88edc8fa2e24773ef800cfe2208b185f1507e53173a4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2023052205050_b1c455e455b7441525af88edc8fa2e24773ef800cfe2208b185f1507e53173a4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1232" height="1080" loading="lazy" alt="DD 32"><figcaption>One of the outlets of Akbare Jhol Momo in Kathmandu.</figcaption></figure>  The trepidation of leaving cushy jobs to try something back home is understandable. I have talented friends who have worked overseas as chefs who returned to Nepal, failed with their ventures and were compelled to remigrate. I myself had started a restaurant in 2004 that did not work out. I had an investment plan, but not a plan to draw customers nor an understanding of the Nepal market to make informed decisions about potential locations, target populations, lowest cost sourcing strategies and what we could bring to the market that is refreshing and new. Money by itself is not enough. Customers won’t come automatically no matter how much you invest. The invitation needs to reach target customers in a way that appeals to them. In fact, I advise people to start small and build gradually, instead of gambling away all their hard-earned money. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

Finding a niche in Nepal

This is the 31st instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. It had been nine years and one month since I had been working in Malaysia. I was planning to return home for good after reaching the 10-year mark. But I met with a life-threatening accident at the steel plant where I worked. It was dangerous work, and the explosion reminded me in the cruelest way just how dangerous it was. I was unconscious for five days in hospital. When I came to, I realised I had lost my left hand. I wept. As a worker who has only done physical labour all my life, what was I worth without my hand? The idea of returning home made me uncomfortable. I felt like it would be better if I just died there in Malaysia, disappeared without trace. Losing my hand, I had also lost my sense of dignity, confidence. The desire to isolate myself just grew stronger. But as time passed, I started coming to terms with reality. Malaysia was a second home to me. Of my nine siblings, seven have previously worked there. I had family and friends there who reached out to me, took care of me, fundraised for me and showered me with love. It was evident that I had earned the goodwill of people who stood by me at the lowest point in my life. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/i-went-to-earn-and-learn">“I went to earn and learn”</a>, Nawaraj Shrestha  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023050111054_29ca47bc62f769118e2a3412dc24ddbd0c06cb80c828968f3914c357f3128c86.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023050111054_29ca47bc62f769118e2a3412dc24ddbd0c06cb80c828968f3914c357f3128c86" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 31"></figure>  Life in my village in Ramechhap was difficult growing up given our economic background. I had no education or skills. To get a job that paid liveable wages overseas felt like the only option. After nearly a decade in Malaysia, I was well liked by my supervisors. I had good duty hours. My struggle in Malaysia allowed me to provide well for my family. In those nine years, I came home thrice on vacation. I had gone there with dreams and ambitions, but I was on my final flight home, maimed and dispirited. I had narrowly escaped death, but dreaded homecoming. I only told my family back home about my situation 15 days after regaining consciousness at the hospital. They were shocked and heartbroken, and insisted I come home immediately. I hung around in Malaysia with a missing limb. I refused to return home without compensation for my workplace accident. I wanted to benefit from their social security scheme and although I heard there were provisions for such support, being able to access it entailed paperwork and constant follow up. In particular, it also required the employer’s proactive support and follow up as they are more aware of the SOCSO program and how to access it than workers like us are. I also relied on informal support of friends and family until I got this sorted out. I may have lost my limb but my responsibility as a father continued so I decided to persist. I had nothing to lose after what had happened. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023050111054_aeeb65b811ec159bf56745d013ba7c4dc2cf99e023a6d919ff6e7d1d707bc44a.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2023050111054_aeeb65b811ec159bf56745d013ba7c4dc2cf99e023a6d919ff6e7d1d707bc44a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 31"></figure>  I used to be offered food and basic items for free from shops frequented by Nepalis, Bangladeshis and Vietnamese. They gave it out of love, but I used to feel bad as I felt these were handouts out of pity and it was discomforting and perhaps hurt my pride. I would feel bad about having these ungrateful thoughts, and for the reluctance to appreciate their generosity and kindness. These were complex emotions to deal with. My persistence finally paid off. I now get a monthly disability benefit of 824 Ringgit ($185) via bank transfers from SOCSO every three months. If I face any problem, the foreign employment board in Kathmandu supports me. I will benefit from this throughout my life which is a relief. It has helped me with some of my household expenses, and has ensured my children’s education. The Governments of Nepal and Malaysia have signed a social security agreement that makes it easier for people to benefit from the scheme in case of accident or death. The agreement provided me with strong support to claim my dues. I am hopeful that the Nepal government can facilitate such support by following up with the employer or the Malaysian government because workers like me do not necessarily know how to work the system there. For workers who face mishaps like I did or families of the deceased, I hope I can serve as an example or source of information about what is possible during these trying times. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf">For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023050111054_5a4d60cd9210c982486dbbff20870391d8c260c4d14b6388dc15deb4e7b3bed7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2023050111054_5a4d60cd9210c982486dbbff20870391d8c260c4d14b6388dc15deb4e7b3bed7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 31"></figure>  I get Rs2,100 as a disability benefit from the Nepal government as I am categorised under the ख category of disability and not क. But without my limb, I cannot work at all. What can I do with a meager Rs2,100? Which is why the lifelong Malaysian SOCSO benefit is important for me. Through the contributory Foreign Employment Welfare Fund and mandatory insurance under Nepal’s labour approval process, I also received a one time support of around Rs800,000 which provided some financial relief. Thankfully my labour permit was valid, if not, I would not have been eligible. I worry about those in my situation deprived of benefits because they do not have a valid labour permit or are unaware of social security benefits like the SOCSO scheme. Even after years, I can feel the weight of my missing limb. My phantom fingers feel like they are tightly clutched together and causes pain and discomfort throughout my waking hours. I use prosthetics but it is heavy and unnatural. I still break down when I watch shows like Indreni that cover similar stories. The memories do not go away, and the tears do not stop. When the odds are heavily stacked against you and you are left with lasting scars, lifetime social security support can at least provide something reliable to fall back on. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/adventures-of-a-nepali-coffee-aficionado">Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado</a>, Laxmi Prasad Timilsina Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

Wounded in the line of duty

This is the 30th instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad.&nbsp; For a young man like me during the Maoist era, it seemed like those of us who were staying behind in rural Nepal only had two choices: join the Armed Police Force (APF) or the Maoist militia.&nbsp; I used to be a social worker in Tanahu, collecting data on visually impaired locals and connecting them to health camps. The job was neither easy nor financially rewarding. But it was meaningful. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/migrant-worker-returns-to-create-work-at-home">Migrant worker returns to create work at home</a>, Sunil Bhujel However, travelling became too risky because of the conflict, and I had to stop the work. I chose to join the APF because my brother was in it. I remember feeling out of place at the barrack. I had grown up reading and writing literature, but suddenly it was not words but bullets that I learned to use. My true passion lay in pens, not pistols. Death felt even closer when 82 APF personnel were killed in Shamsherganj in Banke, the same place where my elder brother was stationed. This terrified my mother who would tearfully insist that we quit the police. I had just completed my training and was not enjoying this new stint. My brother, however, was too attached to the job and could not quit despite the danger. He did advise me to resign so our mother would not worry. I joined an undergraduate course, but as family responsibilities took over I decided to travel to the UAE for work as a security guard. It would be my home for the next 12 years. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023043011040_1f6abac0cf5ecca7a3746895ed03f7ee736a3baa1904218d74ba6164a32b60c1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2023043011040_1f6abac0cf5ecca7a3746895ed03f7ee736a3baa1904218d74ba6164a32b60c1" data-rendition-name="original" width="2250" height="1688" loading="lazy" alt="DD 30"> </figure>  It was a higher salary that brought me to the UAE. But soon enough, I realised it offered a lot more than just economic stability. As I often tell my friends, if you have gone to the UAE, you have travelled the world because you meet people there from all over. I remember exchanging a few words with a New Zealander who had paid AED21,000 ($520) for a ticket at a VIP booth at a Formula 1 race where I was stationed as a guard. I was shocked at the ticket rate, but was pleased with myself that I was getting paid to watch the same race while at work.&nbsp; I have been stationed at other high-profile places: guarding Burj Khalifa, the world's tallest building, which I had previously only read about. During New Year, I got to see great extravaganzas while on guard duty. I was focused on crowd management and ensuring people were safe, of course, but I also got to witness many historic events. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf">For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili These are neither desires nor expectations that people from simple backgrounds like me have. I was there just to earn, but I also got to learn. I gained exposure to what the world has to offer, even though I was just a poor guy in a guard uniform. I now know that no matter what corner of the world you throw me in, I will adjust and make a decent life for myself. But I also know not everyone is as lucky in the Gulf. I landed a good employer and made up to $900 every month as my security company got contracts with the best employers. But others in my position have it much more difficult. My biggest fear was losing the job that I had, and this kept me on my toes at all times. Neither my family nor I could afford to lose the job and salary, and at my company, even a small mistake could be costly. I had bought shares in a transportation company back in Nepal. My research showed that it was a promising firm that was going to break the syndicate in the country. After leaving the UAE, I joined the company as an operations manager but soon realised the job was not for me. I was used to order, rules and working within a system, but in Kathmandu, I found it difficult to adjust to the chaos. So I quit and sold my shares for a loss from my hard earned savings. It was literally down to my पसिनाको पैसा (savings from my sweat). Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/adventures-of-a-nepali-coffee-aficionado">Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado</a>, Laxmi Prasad Timilsina  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2023043011040_98e807ba422eae80da53a7580dec869ddf1861913175c79cab3572d6ff516ade.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2023043011040_98e807ba422eae80da53a7580dec869ddf1861913175c79cab3572d6ff516ade" data-rendition-name="original" width="2126" height="1522" loading="lazy" alt="DD 30"> </figure>  Back home in Chitwan, I could not stay idle for long, and I could not bear the thought of going overseas for work again either. After 12 years away, I treasured the time with my family. A little bit of research taught me that there is potential in cleaning products so I took two short-term training sessions on how to make them.&nbsp; I started a small production and supply outfit in Chitwan. YouTube is also a good place to learn for someone like me without a good background in business. For a new company that started after Covid-19, we are doing pretty well financially, selling cleaning products for toilets, marble and glass, as well as hand liquid soap. We have 21 clients including hostels, hotels and resorts and often struggle to keep up with the rising demand. &nbsp;&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/adventures-of-a-nepali-coffee-aficionado">Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado</a>, Laxmi Prasad Timilsina I have plans to expand my company. It would be good if the government provided some support to us returnees, especially business grants or soft loans, keen on doing something in Nepal itself.&nbsp; We contributed so much to our economy during our years abroad, working silently in the desert heat, away from family and sending home money every month for over a decade. But we arrive here, and even though it is home, spend years struggling to find a footing in an environment that feels entirely new after many years away. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

“I went to earn and learn”

This is the 29th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. The last time I counted, I had done 23 odd jobs by the time I was 22. From teaching computer classes to running a digital photo studio, to even performing in a dance bar, I had done it all. But nothing stuck. I discontinued my undergraduate in humanities because I did not find it practically useful. On the advice of the principal of the school I was teaching in, I applied for a job in Afghanistan via an individual broker who had also sent his son there. After the series of failures I had faced in Nepal, going overseas felt like the only remaining option. After paying 3.5 lakhs for a visit visa, I was en route to Afghanistan in 2010 via UAE. Or so I thought. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/the-return-of-a-master-baker">The return of a master baker</a>, Raju Pakhrin I was instead transported to an abandoned house in Ras Al-Khaimah. There were about 60 people like me crammed in that windowless house who were sold the Afghan dream. A few had failed in previous attempts to travel to Afghanistan but were determined because the agent was good at exploiting their desperation. There were no pillows or blankets in the rooms, just thin mattresses. From day 1, I knew I was in trouble. A sinking feeling of hopelessness tugged at my heart. We tried at least to make our situation bearable, and some of us used whatever money we had to cook our own food. It helped us to kill time. On the 20th day, a foreigner finally came to interview us. I was selected but instead of Afghanistan, he wanted to send me to Iraq. I declined. I complained loudly to my agent, and he reluctantly allowed me to leave the house. I used that opportunity to go to an internet café to print resumes which I passed on to Nepalis that I met along the way. I helped my friends do the same. A Nepali security guard came through and 14 of us were invited for interviews at a hotel opening. On the 26th day in the UAE at the interview venue, we finally got to eat good food for the first time. Seven of us passed the interview. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/adventures-of-a-nepali-coffee-aficionado">Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado</a>, Laxmi Prasad Timilsina The agent tried to prevent us from taking the job by holding onto our passports and, later, from repaying our recruitment fees, claiming credit for our job placement. I was not having any of that, so I returned to Nepal and took back every paisa I had paid the agent. After two months, our new employer sent us our work visas and we went to the UAE again to work as a housekeeper in a hotel. I did not understand the concept of dignity of work, and hid from my family how I was making beds in a hotel for a living. As a former teacher, I did not want them to see me as a failure and pressure me to return home. The hotel allowed us to cross train, and I tried out the engineering department where the Sri Lankan supervisor was impressed with how I answered his technical questions and completed his construction related tasks. As a grandson of a carpenter and mason, I grew up with construction tools and had picked up skills. Every day, I would do housekeeping for 9 hours, and spend another 5 to 6 hours in the engineering department. My passion for what I was doing fuelled me despite the long hours. That sense of belonging had been missing when I was a teacher, a housekeeper, a pastry maker and even a dancer. I started applying for jobs at other hotels and got a call from the Marriott in Qatar and got a job in the MRT (Make Ready Team), a standby for all types of maintenance work. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-mothers-sons">A mother's sons</a>, Bishnumaya Bhusal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230428200412_c5e817f43c9230433de917afbb19cf907e50c956f565562fc10a7b6a3f0b3ed3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230428200412_c5e817f43c9230433de917afbb19cf907e50c956f565562fc10a7b6a3f0b3ed3" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="2333" loading="lazy" alt="DD 29"> </figure>  I worked extremely hard at various Marriott locations and received Best Employee of the Month awards regularly. I even got a Spirit to Serve award signed by Bill Marriott himself. Later I would find out that a German long-stay guest in one of the Marriott apartments had sent a glowing reference about me to headquarters as I helped with maintenance work in the couples’ apartment. She was short-tempered with a record of formally complaining about other Marriott staff including the GM himself, so it was quite flattering that the couple was impressed with me. After spending four years in Qatar, I again transferred back to the UAE where I worked as a senior technician at a Marriott there. When Covid-19 hit, my life priorities changed. The virus demonstrated the fragility of our lives, and I just wanted to be with my wife and daughter. My managers did their best to keep me back, even offering to let me take a six-month leave. But I just wanted to come home, as being away for 11 years was too long. With travel restrictions, coming home was not as easy, and it was a while before my name was finally in the Nepal Embassy’s list of people eligible to travel. My insistence to return home could also have been driven by my confidence about job prospects, especially in maintenance and repairs in new hotels. I had a niche to fill.&nbsp; Today, my company in Kathmandu Complete House Repair and Maintenance Solutions provides a one-stop service for all kinds of maintenance and repair services including plumbing, painting and electricians. Clients do not have to rely on different individuals or companies for different construction services or to manage schedules. Word of mouth has worked well for me, and my customers include Marriott, Hotel Dragon and Palisade. Good work can take you far as we can rely on happy clients to bring us more business. This is an important lesson I learnt from the Marriott culture that is serving me well now. I also took a Building Electrician test (Level 2) and taught a practical electrical course at Bageshwori College. Frustrated with how youth are underrepresented in politics, I am also now an elected member of the Suryabinayak Municipality. My business is going well, but it is difficult to build a professional team in Nepal that cares about the basics, like punctuality, dedication, safety wear, and feels a sense of responsibility about finishing work in a timely manner as we commit to our clients. I find it especially surprising because the same Nepalis in Qatar or UAE that I worked with are recognised and valued for our work ethics. The wage difference, I am sure, is a factor to drive motivation, but so is the overall work culture in shaping work ethics. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230430130448_2cbe2e73d61dbb95e731ab6dc2d6e0c4cb94b8c14fb8685d0ffcf189fb74c067.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230430130448_2cbe2e73d61dbb95e731ab6dc2d6e0c4cb94b8c14fb8685d0ffcf189fb74c067" data-rendition-name="original" width="1750" height="1309" loading="lazy" alt="DD 29"> </figure>  I have come a long way from the first time I entered the UAE in 2010 as a victim of fraud. Today, I am in a much better position, with knowledge and finances that are serving me well in Nepal. Reflecting on my journey makes me emotional. The friends that I am in touch with from the crammed building in the UAE are also doing well for themselves. One is in the UAE working in the kitchen of a Sheikh’s family. Another works in a hotel in the Maldives. And the third who worked in the laundry department runs a tailoring store back in Nepal. I have not forgotten them, and our deeply disappointing start 13 years ago as migrant workers hoping to get into Afghanistan. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

Migrant worker returns to create work at home

This is the 28th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. I am the youngest of four brothers who have all helped to give my career a head start. One worked as a trekking guide and the other two as chefs in Nepal and the UAE. Trekking was not really for me, although it was a natural choice given that my father and brother were guides. Our house in Makwanpur was often filled with foreigners, an unlikely sight in the 1980s in that part of the country.&nbsp; I was a simple village boy juggling school and farming, and was shy of foreigners. I started joining my brother on treks as a kitchen boy, including three 22-day trips across Thorung La, which was difficult but exciting.&nbsp; I was promoted to guide for groups of 20 trekkers with 60 support staff. At the end of a trek we bonded like families, and there were even tears in the last evening before goodbyes around the campfire. I made friends with local people and looked forward to the adventures. &nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries/adventures-of-a-nepali-coffee-aficionado">Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado</a>, Laxmi Prasad Timilsina  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230414040436_9ea981aff3589b23f7d263e32387207e423a9d7c8399a01c0ba01d9ecf802f28.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230414040436_9ea981aff3589b23f7d263e32387207e423a9d7c8399a01c0ba01d9ecf802f28" data-rendition-name="original" width="1200" height="1600" loading="lazy" alt="DD 28"> </figure>  Trekking was fun, but the income was seasonal. I also missed the stability of staying put in one place. Once in 1985, I had a chance meeting with a German tourist in Ghorepani who was blowing bubbles to entertain excited children. He ran a German bakery in Jawalakhel and before I knew it, I had a job there that earned me Rs500 a month. Waking up at 3AM I learnt how to make different types of bread – sourdough, multigrain, you name it – first in Jawalakhel and then in the Pokhara branch. Then I joined my brother who was an Executive Chef at Summit Hotel. In 1996 I joined my other brother who was a chef at Le Meridian in the UAE. My starting salary was much higher than in Nepal, but more importantly I gained a lot of knowledge and experience about food hygiene, customer service and standardisation of food quality.&nbsp; I worked among colleagues from over 120 countries, and learnt that hospitality was more than just serving food. I had it much easier than fellow Nepalis in the Gulf, but faced challenges. Even though I had English language skills, it was inadequate in the hospitality business.&nbsp; I ended up spending over 19 years in the UAE, working at the same bakery for ten years where I was trusted enough by my employer to make key decisions and hone my baking skills. My carrot cake was a hit. Every time I handed in a resignation letter, I got hefty salary increases. With political instability back home and a good employer, there was always a reason to postpone my homecoming. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-mothers-sons">A mother's sons</a>, Bishnumaya Bhusal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230414040436_097878927f962b41f94b95d0aaada9edeb6a4ca0cc5bf8ac138776571f004502.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230414040436_097878927f962b41f94b95d0aaada9edeb6a4ca0cc5bf8ac138776571f004502" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 28"> </figure>  Many Nepalis I know have it really hard in the Gulf. Even then, I find it discomforting when politicians refer derogatorily to us as camel grazers under the desert sun (खाडीको घाममा उँट चराउने), when truth is that there are many Nepalis engaged in high-paying jobs as well.&nbsp; By the time I left the UAE in 2015, I was making 14,000 Dirhams a month ($3,800). If I had stayed on, I would probably be earning even more. I do not want to undermine the struggle of Nepalis in the Gulf, but there are many of us who have left handsome salaries to come home and contribute meaningfully to Nepal, including as job-creators ourselves.&nbsp; The Nepal government needs to prepare its youth to compete in the overseas market so they can take up better jobs which are available, and get good promotions. There is plenty of money floating around in the Gulf, perhaps more than anywhere else in the world. With the right skills, training and approach, there is a potential for Nepalis to flourish. I decided to return after the 2015 earthquake. I had seen the UAE transform itself as a country in a short period and I wanted the same for Nepal. Except, that was easier said than done. Soon after I opened my restaurant in Nepal, the Indian Blockade of 2015 wrecked my business. I had to pay Rs7,000 for a cylinder of gas, and spent weeks cooking for my customers in firewood. My restaurant did not do well, so I started The Lemon Tree bakery in Bhaisepati and Jhamsikhel. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230414040436_e4be3ffec8371b1a6d3156ef9a9f1f41e0e8c8979eae3e03509d475b5497b443.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230414040436_e4be3ffec8371b1a6d3156ef9a9f1f41e0e8c8979eae3e03509d475b5497b443" data-rendition-name="original" width="1536" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 28"> </figure>  This was my area of expertise, and I felt more in control. I still work 15-16 hours a day and rely on my loyal customer base of both foreigners and Nepalis. I employ 14-15 workers, primarily female, who are getting well trained on the job. Both my employees and customers are like family, just like in my trekking days.&nbsp; It is not easy to work in Nepal. There are opportunities but it has to be an area in which you have experience, and requires patience. Our natural desire for overnight success and profits needs a reality check. The plan to have a bakery in Nepal was brewing in my mind for a long time, and I used to collect recipes in the UAE which I still use. Costs are high and continue to increase. Flour used to cost Rs2,700 a sack two months back and now it is Rs5,200. Even simple things like chocolate are hard to find, so we have to change brands. Loans are inaccessible, suppliers can be unreliable. Another drawback is the lack of importance given to hygiene, and some restaurants actually need to be immediately shut down. There is always a new competitor – a café or a bakery.&nbsp; But everything I have done from my trekking days, waking up at 3AM to make bread in Jawalakhel, to the years in the UAE has brought me to this time and place at The Lemon Tree. &nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com" target="_blank">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with 'Diaspora Diaries' in the subject line.

The return of a master baker

This is the 27th instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/diaspora-diaries">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. It has been 16 years since I left Nepal after finishing Grade 12. I was already in Dubai when I found out I had passed my exams. Growing up in Chitwan with four sisters, I never had to do any household chores. My father, a teacher, made sure I was never deprived of anything. So, when I had to suddenly work as a waiter in the UAE, it was not easy at first. My English was not good and I had no Arabic, which made my initial days abroad very difficult. Soon, I was transferred to the dishwashing department of Gloria Jeans Café. The two months I spent behind the scenes as a dishwasher were life-changing because the barista's bar was close by and a Sri Lankan was kind enough to teach me the art of coffee-making. I transferred to his department, and that was when my coffee journey began.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/a-mothers-sons">A mother's sons</a>, Bishnumaya Bhusal  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230410130424_9a75b5fe2f57760ae2bc99725f74d14dc51b3abf971df97691a8b8b7d1adf13d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20230410130424_9a75b5fe2f57760ae2bc99725f74d14dc51b3abf971df97691a8b8b7d1adf13d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1152" height="2048" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  When the Sri Lankan won in a GJC barista competition, I too made it my goal to participate in the competition. Not only did I win it next time, I also got to participate in regional and global competitions in which I secured second place and even got to travel to Egypt. You get 15 minutes each for preparation, presentation and clean-up and are evaluated by certified judges. The judges evaluate the presentation part by certified judges. This learning can be transformational because you are no longer mechanically preparing coffee to serve your customers, but you have to learn the mechanics behind it, experiment with different recipes and present your story in a compelling manner. And all this happens under extreme pressure live on camera and with an audience. During my presentations I shared stories about why I had to leave Nepal, and switched from being a tea lover to coffee. What you learn in these few months during the competition easily outweighs working passively behind the bar for years because you push your boundaries and find out what you are capable of. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/baking-as-a-metaphor-for-life/">Baking as a metaphor for life</a>, Aliza Basnet  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230410130416_a6d4f579b65d57dca9e6f65c46f902137aadc4580578c2115ef7126f44f1547a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20230410130416_a6d4f579b65d57dca9e6f65c46f902137aadc4580578c2115ef7126f44f1547a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1024" height="768" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  I have gotten to work in unique cafes like Majlis Café in the UAE that was a camel milk café and then at Boon Specialty Café where I learnt to care about the origin of coffee, right from farmers to roasters. Us baristas also have the ultimate responsibility to ensure it is brewed perfectly, working in specialty cafés expanded my horizon to think about the story behind the beans. It was while I was working in the UAE that I came across investors in Qatar who were looking to start a specialty café in Doha. I have been working at Flat White for the last five years since its launch as manager and trainer.&nbsp; Given my love for socialising with people and for coffee, my friends and I started Coffee Samaj Nepal recently. It is still a relatively new organisation and one of our aims is to complete the paperwork necessary to conduct training by Nepali coffee enthusiasts for Nepali jobseekers in Qatar for promising baristas.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/turning-the-desert-green/">Turning the desert green</a>&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230410130416_bd81c48c040a86163aafbe1a19e9204500319726577fcb47bfc841266cbbe4aa.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20230410130416_bd81c48c040a86163aafbe1a19e9204500319726577fcb47bfc841266cbbe4aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1152" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  My relationship with coffee has been evolving over the years. Initially, latte art was exciting as it gave new baristas an opportunity to experiment with different patterns and art forms. My favourite patterns are tulips and rosetta, but I also enjoy other patterns like seahorse, chameleon, and swans. Then I found it exciting to experiment with different roast levels and brewing temperatures to come up with that perfect mix of flavour and aroma. It is always motivating when my regular customers demand that I prepare their drink for them. I put in a lot of care while preparing each cup. Now, my passion is to produce and promote baristas, and helping coordinate barista competitions can be an important platform to promote talent. I no longer participate in competitions myself but help younger baristas do so. Coffee Samaj Nepal recently organised a Latte Art Throwdown in Qatar in which there were 64 participants, and the winners were a Nepali and two Filipinos. In another Qatar national barista competition, we played the role of coordinator, which was won by a Filipino with Nepalis coming second and third. When capable baristas cannot afford participation fees, we help fundraise. These competitions provide people an opportunity to showcase their talent and get recognised in the coffee sector. As a previous winner in competitions, it certainly helped elevate my profile in the region. With Nepalis winning in many barista related competitions that are judged by renowned SCA certified international judges, it sends a powerful message that Nepalis are as good as the best in the world and this could translate to better opportunities globally.&nbsp; Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung Rai  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230410130416_bc29f025d6fc680fb662abb84c5c4a784cd718465f1d5a9aa0d7fc4d4bd92679.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20230410130416_bc29f025d6fc680fb662abb84c5c4a784cd718465f1d5a9aa0d7fc4d4bd92679" data-rendition-name="original" width="536" height="720" loading="lazy" alt="DD 27"> </figure>  When baristas come to Qatar from Nepal after getting trained and gaining some work experience in cafes, it is much easier for them to pick up on the job requirements. Nepal’s barista training is good but not enough. Given the differences in machines used, coffee grades and techniques, they still require training on the job for a while before they can handle the role on their own. But there is great demand for baristas overseas, and Nepalis are building a strong reputation in this category.&nbsp; There is potential not just to export Nepali coffee making services, but also high quality Nepali coffee. The high altitude and climate of Nepal makes it favourable for good quality coffee production. When my friends and I eventually return to Nepal, we want to help promote Nepali coffee globally. As a coffee aficionado, I deal with coffee every day, but I still cannot forget the whiff of my first ever coffee the first time I tried it as a 21 year old in Dubai 16 years ago. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/">Speaking the language of overseas work</a> Translated from an interview with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.

Adventures of a Nepali coffee aficionado

<img width="1600" height="1200" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150240/63fe12a29c7e80680e0da532jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>This is the 223d instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. For almost a dozen years, I have been working as a farmer in a majra, deep in the desert of Saudi Arabia.Despite spending so much time here, I have not really seen much of the country. The only time I leave this wadi (called majra) is when I go to Nepal every two years for a few months. The airport is quite a distance from here, and all along during the long ride I have my eyes glued to the countryside from my taxi window.I grow vegetables in the farm along this dry river bed, so I get to see a lot more greenery than others do in Saudi Arabia. We grow khajoor (dates), tomato, cauliflower, millet and livestock fodder while tending to over 350 goats. Work is busy and can get exhausting with the heat especially during summer months.  A lot has changed over the years, even though I have worked in the same majra under the same kafeel sponsor the whole time. A Nepali colleague who worked in this majra for 18 years went back recently. He came here when he could call home on a landline with much difficulty once every two weeks or so.But I arrived here during the Nokia phone days. We used to watch Hindi shows on a small tv back then. Things are better now with smartphones and social media. Killing the empty hours overseas alone between vacations is much easier with YouTube and Facebook. Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/prisoners-of-the-green-passport/"> Prisoners of the Green Passport</a>, Mahendra Thulung RaiBut I do not know much what has changed in Saudi Arabia beyond the boundaries of my farm, since the wadi is an isolated world, disconnected from the rest of the country. The day I finally decide to leave Saudi, I think I will still not have seen much of the country.I have worked with the same mudir (boss) for almost a dozen years, but I would not say I have stuck it out because he is a good boss. It is because there is no certainty that the next one will be any better, or even much worse.Familiarity with him and his expectations is helpful, he does not delay my salary and pays for my roundtrip ticket to Kathmandu every two years. Even then, I do not feel any particular affinity towards him. He is a source of money for me, just as I am a source of labour for him. The day either of us stop providing this value to each other is the day our transactional relationship ends.By Saudi standards, I do not believe my mudir is a very rich man. Of course the number of workers he employs in his house or majra including domestic help, driver and farmers is equal to the size of his entire family. But after hearing about the lifestyle of other mudir of fellow Nepalis, he seems less extravagant and opulent. He has never left the country even once since I have known him, unlike other Saudis who go abroad for business or holiday. It does not seem like he has any other engagement beyond this small majra.But even then, the Saudi hukumat (government) provides well for its citizens. We Nepalis are unlucky. Neither our own government not the governments of the countries we are employed in look after us.The Nepali in the majra has left, and I now have fellow workers from Sudan. We speak in Arabic which I am now fluent in. I used to maintain a notebook with basics like numbers that I noted with the help of colleagues. Other than that, necessity also pressured me to learn.I had to know how to communicate with my mudir to ask him for basic supplies like food items or toiletries as the closest shops were quite a distance away and I was not mobile. I also tried to be extra attentive when he gave me instructions in Arabic at work, some of which I used to note and memorise. Somehow I learnt to manage.Read also:<a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf/"> For better or verse in the Gulf</a>, Dalbir Singh Baraili <img width="295" height="291" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150240/63fe12a69c7e80680e0da533jpeg.jpg" alt="">Other than Arabic, I have not learnt anything significant after coming here. Sure, I now know how to drive a tractor or fix a broken leg of an injured goat, but I do not feel I have achieved much. There is not much innovation in the agriculture work I do here. With my limited educational background and training, there are not many professional opportunities available for people like me. But then again, if everyone becomes a doctor or engineer, who will grow your vegetables and ensure there is food to eat? Even so, it is difficult to survive as a farmer.Over the last decade, I managed to buy land and build a house back home. I send my children to good schools in Nepal. Whether I like it or not here, I must stick around in Saudi Arabia for my children’s education. After all, are not Nepalis overseas also all making these sacrifices for their children’s secure future?All things considered, I earn Rs40-50,000 a month depending on tips, with food and lodging covered by my mudir. This provides an important cushion to my family. I had to work for a dozen years with the same mudir to be where I am today. If I had the guarantee of earning even Rs30,000 rupees back home, I would stay back in Nepal with my family.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/cut-from-a-different-cloth/">Cut from a different cloth</a>Even if we can manage to earn Rs1,000 a day as a labourer in Nepal, it will not be enough if the work is not consistent throughout the month. Here, I get a lump sum every month even as a farmer and do not have to worry about getting work the next day or about my accommodation and food. Why would I or anyone in my position live in this monotony, far from my family, if I did not have to?There are other majra in the neighborhood I live in with many migrant workers from Asia and Africa who also did not see much hope for themselves in their home countries. I do not think any of us are particularly happy to be here in the desert, but none of us have better alternatives. I know of three Nepalis who live in my area and work in neighbouring majra. We meet every few days to chat and have dinner. It gives me a sense of belonging and a break from this monotony.Just like the Saudi Arabia outside the farm is unfamiliar to me, during my visits home Kathmandu also feels very foreign. I pass through it every two years and do not linger there much. When I come home for my vacation, I am in a rush to go back to my village to my family in Nawalparasi.When it is time to return to Saudi Arabia, I try to spend as much time with my family in my village as I can before saying goodbye. Even when there is time to see Kathmandu before my flight, I do not really feel like it because I am weighed down with the heaviness of leaving home and family.Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/speaking-the-language-of-overseas-work/">Speaking the language of overseas work</a>Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with ‘Diaspora Diaries’ in the subject line.

Turning the desert green

<img width="740" height="555" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe11689c7e80680e0da4dbjpeg.jpg" alt=""/>This is the 22nd instalment of Diaspora Diaries, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad.I was sitting on the terrace of a building that was under construction in Doha. Night had fallen, but it was still hot. Beads of sweat dropped on the page of my diary in which I was writing a poem, making the words illegible. Illegible but indelible. I still have that poem with me. Words are all I have. I have gone three times to the Gulf to work. I have composed poetry at construction sites, under a lamppost in my labour camp, or in a crowded room with 11 other Nepalis. Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/proud-to-give-back-to-nepal/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Proud to give back to Nepal</a>After a hard 12-hour day in the outdoor heat, being humiliated by an overbearing supervisor, it did not matter that there were 11 other people in my noisy and crowded room. I became oblivious to my surroundings, when my heart ached and venting in my diary was my only escape.People talk of foreign employment as a compulsion and not a choice for Nepalis. For me, writing poems also feels like a compulsion. When I see the failures in our society that disproportionately impact the weakest, I have to get it out of my system through verse. Only then can I sit still, get a good night’s sleep. I see power in words, in books, in literature. Growing up in a remote village near Dharan, my friends and I had started a भित्ते wall newspaper. We used to buy large drawing papers and hand-write news, copying the style of publications that did not make it to our village. There was no photocopy service then, so we had to copy everything by hand from the master copy. It was difficult, but we loved it, and assigned beats for village news, interviews and literature to the news team. Read also: <a style="background-color: #ffffff; font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/saving-to-save-my-sisters-life/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Saving to save my sister</a>I was in charge of the literature section, and sought contributions from the community. We stuck the newspaper on a wall in the busy part of town so as many people as possible could read it.Indeed, people would swarm around after every edition came out. Seeing the popularity of the paper, people made stands so the paper could be protected from the rain. Sometimes, when available, we used to paste original photos of the contributors or interviewees to illustrate the content. This would create quite the buzz, and inspire others to contribute as well. We had quite a fan following, and could influence village discussions on social issues.  <img width="295" height="291" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe116b9c7e80680e0da4dcjpeg.jpg" alt="">When I migrated overseas for work, this desire to inculcate a reading habit among others followed me. It was not easy when access to books or newspapers was limited. In Qatar in 2004, news from Nepal was not readily available to us migrants. When people came from Nepal carrying gifts like pickles,  they used to be wrapped in newspapers. Sometimes the news in those pages would be more valuable than the pickle itself.  <img width="1066" height="1600" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe116d9c7e80680e0da4ddjpeg.jpg" alt="">We would read those strips of paper, and share it among ourselves.  It did not matter if the news was outdated, or if the paper was crumpled — it was still a valuable connection to our homes, and sometimes the only link with Nepal we had.We would save these clippings under our pillows and reread them anytime we were bored or homesick. We would read them so many times that we could recite the contents from memory.We would even know the obituaries by heart, with random details like the date when they died, or the names of their family members. When fellow Nepali visitors came to our camps, they would be in for a treat when we presented them with pieces of paper with Devnagari writing.  Things were very different in 2008 when I returned to Qatar for my second overseas stint. We were no longer just foreign workers, but part of a well developed Nepali community that prized Nepali food, literature and entertainment. The Internet was taking over, and papers like Rajdhani and Kantipur had made it there. We visited other labour camps with Nepali books in our bags that we collected as donations from fellow Nepalis. We also brought more books from Nepal based on reviews they had read online. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/for-better-or-verse-in-the-gulf/">Read also: For better or verse in the Gulf, Dalbir Singh Baraili</a>We encouraged fellow Nepalis to hold book discussions. This was also how we identified the hidden writers and poets across Qatar. Soon, by convincing local Nepali businessmen to finance our work, we also had a small library.In Saudi Arabia where I later worked in 2016, I was unable to access other camps due to unsuitable work hours, or location that made travelling difficult. But by then, social media offered a good alternative, and we had poem recitals on group video calls and Facebook messenger groups with members from across the world with whom we shared our writings.I was one of those migrant workers who carried more books than clothes when traveling overseas. I hope that one day I will be able to start a library in Dharan in my mother’s memory. She died of cancer when I was away. I could not return for her last rites because my status was irregular, and I had to wait for the next amnesty to leave the country without spending time in detention. Before she passed, relatives told me tears would roll down her face for me, even though she could not speak, for her youngest son. Her undocumented son.When I was a young boy, after stroking my hair to put me to sleep, she used to often talk to herself thinking I was asleep. That was the way she coped with her hard life by letting her words out, and she passed on that to me. She used to mumble how I was going to take care of her when I grew up and how I was going to be so “big”, perhaps a doctor, that it would shut the village naysayers up who insulted her, a single mother abandoned by her husband. <img width="949" height="1920" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe11709c7e80680e0da4dejpeg.jpg" alt="">Recently, I was selected as the top 14 contestants from the 3,200 plus applicants for the Poet Idol in Nepal. My words were going to get a platform that I previously did not have access to with viewers from all over the world. I was writing for myself in the past, but now after Poet Idol, my words carry more weight, and with it has come more responsibility to cover topics that matter. Whether the world was watching or not, however, I have always written poems.I got eliminated after making it quite far, but I am grateful for the support I received, especially from the migrant community abroad. Had I won the Poet Idol, I would have used the prize money to build the library in my mother’s memory.I recited poems touching on various aspects of the migrant experience and random people reached out to me to thank me for telling their stories as well. But I also received a fair amount of criticism. Some friends reminded me that work in the Middle East is not just in construction but also with computers. It is true: people I know also hold supervisory and managerial positions and are making handsome salaries. But I can also tell stories of those who did not have the same luck, and whose voices need to be heard. I need villains to inspire my poems and the villains are present everywhere in stories of the weakest, the marginalised, whether in Nepal or abroad.  I have written many poems about societal issues to portray their lives and experiences. But I have also lost many poems because I had to leave behind my diary when I had to unexpectedly escape an abusive employer, or because I lost my phone.  It is always a relief to salvage some of the poems that I sent as audio recordings to my friends in Facebook messenger with whom the words would resonate because I was too excited to keep them just with me.Now in Nepal I run a small भट्टी eatery. My hope is that I can stop going overseas for another attempt to make some savings when things get difficult in Nepal. But even after 19 years of working overseas three times, and at age 37, that is still not out of the question. I have pending loans and running this establishment can be financially limiting because of increasing family responsibilities.Not having reliable livelihood alternatives or support systems makes life difficult and unpredictable. न समाउने हागो न टेक्ने हागो, as we say here. All I have are my words. Translated from a conversation with the author. <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-3/">Diaspora Diaries</a> is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to <a href="mailto:editors@nepalitimes.com">editors@nepalitimes.com</a> with Diaspora Diaries in the subject line.  <img width="1542" height="2048" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150236/63fe11739c7e80680e0da4dfjpeg.jpg" alt=""><h4>हरियो पासपोर्ट भित्रका कैदिहरु</h4><h4>Prisoners of the Green Passport</h4> देशमा आसुको वर्षा झारेरपसिनाको बर्षाअरबमा झार्नएउटा मोनालिसा फोटोत्रिभुवन बिमानस्थलमा खिचेरभर्खर उसले देश छोड्यो।After shedding tears at home,He just left his countryTo shed sweat in ArabiaAfter taking a Mona Lisa photoAt Tribhuvan Airport. भोलि बाट उसले बिर्सनेछगाउमा बिताएको पच्चिसौ बसन्तसम्झनेछ त केवलपासपोर्ट भित्रको आफ्नो जवान चित्र।He will forget tomorrowThe 25 springs of his village lifeHe will only rememberHis youthful passport photo. माथि आकाशबाट हेर्नेछ।लहर नमिलेको इटाको थुप्रो जस्तो काठमाडौहिमालका शहरहरुपृथ्वीनारायणका सेना जस्तै पहाडहरुअनि,दछिण बाट उडि आएको बादलका थुम्काहरुतराइको उखु खेतीबडेमाको अजिङ्गर जस्तो नदिहरुभुकम्पमा भत्किएको गाउँर,बनिदै गरेको धरहरायसरी उसले देश भिजिट गर्दैसात समुन्द्र कट्ने छ।पुग्नेछ पानी जस्तै उडेर तेल र ग्यासहरुको देश। He will gaze down at the pile of bricksThat is Kathmandu.Himalayan towns, ruined by earthquakeA Dharara being rebuiltRows of peaks like Prithvi Narayan’s ArmyClouds climb up from the SouthOver the Tarai’s sugarcane fieldsRivers slide like giant pythons.Thus will he revisit his homelandCross oceansTo the land where oil is water, gas is vapour. त्यस पछि,त्यो समुन्द्रको पानीमाउसले मेरो नदिको पानी पनि छछाम्न पाउदैन।यो पृथ्वी मेरो पनि हो भन्न पाउदैन।घाम,जुन,ताराहरु आफ्नो सोच्न पाउदैन।मात्र सोच्न पाउनेछ।म बिक्रि भएको आधुनिक मान्छे।He cannot feel the water of my riversIn the sea water.He cannot say the Earth is also mineThe sun, moon and stars cannot be mine He is just a modern man, who has been sold. ठिक,त्यही बेलापानी पर्नेछ अरबमा।ठिक यहि बेला छाता ओड्नेछ सिंहदरबार।Right then, it will rain in ArabiaAnd Singha Darbar will unfurl its umbrella. हरियो पासपोर्ट भित्रका कैदिहरु रुझ्नेछन।Soaking us prisoners of the Green Passport

Prisoners of the Green Passport

<figure><img width="960" height="543" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10c89c7e80680e0da4aejpeg.jpg" alt=""/><figcaption>Photos courtesy: DALBIR SINGH BARAILI</figcaption></figure>This is the 21st instalment of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/diaspora-diaries-1/">Diaspora Diaries</a>, a regular series in Nepali Times with stories of Nepalis living and working abroad. When I remember my poverty-stricken childhood, what comes vividly to my mind is how my mother and sisters walked for three days from my village in Ramechhap to Godar with sacks of potatoes and returned with salt, masala and tobacco.Dasain evokes many memories of childhood in people, but for me the festival was a time to finally eat rice, a welcome break from makai and kodo. I used to run around barefoot and it used to be painful, so after seeing an image of Ram and his paduka in a copy of the Ramayana, I improvised my own wooden slipper.My parents had to struggle taking care of us 10 children. But my mother had strong management skills, and those were abundantly evident in how she allocated to all of us specific household duties every evening for the next day. Somehow, this ‘homework’ allowed her to ensure a semblance of order in that chaos.Education was never a priority even though my school was just five minutes away. This was unsurprising because tattered clothes, unpaid school bills and struggle to buy notebooks do not particularly lend themselves to high performance.   <img width="295" height="291" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10cb9c7e80680e0da4afjpeg.jpg" alt="">Ten brothers and sisters in my house meant I was always amidst siblings and relatives. But in those days the village itself was bustling with people, unlike these days when it is empty because many in the community have moved out for work. Back then, money had no value in rural Nepal. Neighbours helped each other build or repair homes, and during the during harvest season everyone pitched in. Now, even if you are willing to pay, it is difficult to get farm help or hire construction workers. <img width="1600" height="904" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10cd9c7e80680e0da4b0jpeg.jpg" alt="">The irony of our village life is that when there were no services and facilities in the village, it was full of people. Now that there is a motorable road and shops, there is no one left.My parents were irregular with paying school fees, but we had a roof over our heads and relied on subsistence farming for food. That was until the weddings of my brothers, when my father borrowed Rs3,000 from the village money lender. He had to pay 3 pathi (1 pathi = 4 litre container) for every 100 rupees.  I remember the moneylender used to show up with an empty sack for his ‘interest’ payment every month.After being buried in debt and giving away our produce as interest, we even had to go to bed on an empty stomach. That was a new low for me and my family. I soon left home to work on the Miteri Bridge and other road projects, or wash dishes at the Karna Purna restaurant in Maha Bouddha in Kathmandu which is still in operation. These stints allowed me to survive until an uncle helped me get enlisted into the Nepal Army. <img width="576" height="432" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10d19c7e80680e0da4b1jpeg.jpg" alt="">It was a good opportunity, although I often felt suffocated with the discipline, being someone with a knack for writing ghazal odes, and for storytelling. The rigid military environment was not for me. Even then, I knew it was my ticket to serve as a UN Peacekeeper overseas so waited for my turn to serve in Southern Lebanon for six months before resigning from the army after 11 years of service.It was a unique opportunity that allowed me to earn $450 a month. I could have bought land with the savings, but I spent it instead on household items and gold for my family and paid off my parents’ loans. Buying property for myself when my family was struggling and deep in debt did not seem right.Then, a friend in the UAE sent me a letter, encouraging me to come there for work. This was 1998, so it was a letter by post. Soon enough, I was on a plane to Dubai where I ended up spending the next 20 years.At that time, there were only a few thousand Nepalis in the UAE, and we would mistake Filipino workers for Nepalis. Meeting fellow Nepalis used to be rare and exciting9 <img width="1600" height="1166" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10d49c7e80680e0da4b2jpeg.jpg" alt="">I worked in the security sector and was lucky to be eventually promoted to a supervisor position. In one of the commercial buildings where we were posted, I once found a computer in the trash bin. It worked fine, so I took it to my dorm and taught myself to type in Nepali, one key at a time.A Nepali brother who was technically savvy also taught me how to use pageview and within three months, I started publishing a monthly paper called Sahayatra (Fellow Traveller) that included news and current affairs from Nepal and ghazals.   This was the pre-smartphone era, and we used to make 10,000 photocopies of Sahayatra and distribute it for free to fellow Nepalis in the UAE. The revenue came from advertisements from Air Arabia, Western Union and Nepali restaurants. <img width="1440" height="1080" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10d89c7e80680e0da4b3jpeg.jpg" alt="">But overseas employment came at a cost. It took a strain on my relationship with my wife with whom I separated. I am not sure if the outcome would have been any different had I been in Nepal. For the next two years until I remarried, I was depressed and had lost all my motivation.This pain of loss in a foreign country was reflected in my ghazal verses, and is the reason behind my pen name Ghayal (Wounded), which is how I am still known in my circle.I returned to Nepal in 2018 for good, leaving behind a very different Dubai from how I had first found it in 1998. There was just one 56-storeyed building called the World Trade Centre on Sheikh Zayad Road at that time, and it used to be surrounded by camel farms and sand dunes.There was just one shopping mall, but right in front of my eyes over the two decades I was there, the country was transformed. It was like magic. My journey is covered in Kesang Tseten’s documentary A Migrant Speaks.Failure to find a meaningful job in Nepal meant that I had to re-migrate to the UAE for work again. This time, though, there was no more scope for Sahayatra, since we had Internet. The domain ‘Sahayatra’ was already taken, so I chose a random website name. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@SahayatraTV">SahayatraTV</a> is now my YouTube channel that has grown over the years to 30,000 subscribers and is thankfully monetised. <img width="960" height="636" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10dd9c7e80680e0da4b4jpeg.jpg" alt="">My company in Nepal now also films weddings and other events. I was self-taught in using a computer, formatting and video-editing. All because I once retrieved a discarded computer from the rubbish bin in Dubai.YouTube has helped me hone my video editing skills. Working overseas has also taught me the value of formal education. I made it to supervisor level despite having done only Grade 6. But with my leadership and English language skills, I could have been promoted to manager level if I had a higher education degree. That is why I have invested in my children’s education.One of them is now in the UK working as a chartered accountant, and he sends money home -- an intergenerational boost that I am proud of. I have also prioritised the education of my remaining three children and will not let money be a deterrent.   <img width="1570" height="1185" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20230228150232/63fe10e09c7e80680e0da4b5jpeg.jpg" alt="">Twenty years abroad was full of ups and downs for me, Ghayal, but it was all for the children and their secure future.Come to the desertSee how the sun isSee how barren the desert isCome to the desertSee how the sun isDon’t expect money growing on treesDon’t expect money growing on treesTry to understand how it is to work in the desertSee how barren the desert isThese days the desert sun fears usEver since it felt the mountains in our heart I have room for any amount of love within meThough we toil here, we remain strangersThough we toil here, we remain strangersListen, dear Nepal is within meI have room for any amount of love within me(Translation from Kesang Tseten’s A Migrant Speaks)Translated from a conversation with the author. Diaspora Diaries is a regular column in Nepali Times providing a platform for Nepalis to share their experiences of living, working, studying abroad. Authentic and original entries can be sent to editors@nepalitimes.com with ‘Diaspora Diaries’ in the subject line.

For better or verse in the Gulf

One smoggy winter morning in February 2019, Ekta regretted coming to her sculpture class. It was the first day of her period, and the 19-year-old wished she was home, curled up in bed with a hot water bag to soothe her cramps.
Her class was at Kalapremi Ceramic Studio, a dark room on the ground floor of a house in Maharajganj, and Ekta’s teacher was the artist Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’, a noted sculptor.
Two other students were already there, using all their muscle strength to knead the sculpting clay. Ekta, now 24, recalls how Kalapremi asked her if she was feeling all right. She avoided him, as she did not want everyone to know she was menstruating.
Kalapremi repeatedly asked Ekta what was wrong. She finally muttered that she was having her period, after which he grabbed her hand and led her to a partitioned corner of the studio and sat her on a chair. Before she could stop him, he slid his hand under her dress, and started massaging her abdomen.
“I was horrified,” Ekta recalls. “I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen, asking me not to be shy, saying he knew how to relieve my pain. He stopped only after I protested furiously.”&nbsp;
The art tutor then said, “You’re like my daughter. I’m doing it out of love to make you feel better, but you’re so stubborn.”&nbsp;
“Instead of saying sorry he acted like I was the one having crazy thoughts,” remembers Ekta, adding that from April 2016 to August 2020 beginning the time she was 16, the artist sexually abused and harassed her on several occasions. &nbsp;
Now, Ekta and the artist’s other former students are finally sharing their experiences and some are pressing legal charges against him, hoping that others do not have to endure what they did.&nbsp;
Award-winning artist and teacher Gopal Das Shrestha ‘Kalapremi’ (the name means ‘Art Lover’) is known for his ceramic art, sculpture, and contemporary pottery. He was <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-house-of-kalapremi">profiled in Nepali Times after a collaborative exhibition</a>, ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ at the Siddhartha Art Gallery three years ago.&nbsp;
His pieces, titled Gaalis, featured sculpted female figures with the heads of dogs, sheep, and donkeys (pictured) to depict derogatory terms for women. Some critics said the collection was a satire on feminists.
Kalapremi started his artistic and teaching career in 1983 and over the years taught at Bhanubhakta School, Kathmandu University School of Arts, Lalitkala Campus and at his private Kalapremi Ceramic Studio. He has also lectured at Jeonju University in South Korea and recently at Tabor Academy in the United States.
Seven of Kalapremi’s former students were interviewed for this story. Five female students said he touched them inappropriately in his studio or at Kathmandu University. Two male students said they witnessed him abuse and harass the women. In all cases, the students struggled to recognise the abuse when it occurred, and the lack of reporting systems left them to cope on their own for years.&nbsp;
Earlier this year, students shared a social media post hinting at Kalapremi’s history of abusive behaviour following which more students of the artist reached out sharing similar experiences. Some students spoke of abuse that happened as long as 20 years ago.
Kalapremi, 60, has denied the allegations. He told Nepali Times: “Some years ago, there was a movement encouraging people to hug and kiss. I used to do it purely out of friendship and love. But after seeing posts on social media last year calling out my behaviour, I realised my actions may have hurt some people. I understand now that I should have been more mindful.”
He added: “I am also an auxiliary health worker, so I know the exact points to massage to relieve menstrual pain. It’s not just menstruation, I take anyone who is ill to the hospital.”
Sexual abuse is much more rampant than reported given how difficult it is to prove it in court. The law defines sexual abuse as occuring when someone touches another’s private parts, coerces them into touching theirs, uses vulgar language, shows degrading images, or behaves indecently towards them without consent.&nbsp;
Ekta and her fellow students are consulting lawyer Suneeta Regmi Pokhrel, who says they know that even if the court decides in their favour, it is difficult to survive after speaking up, and influential men defend themselves saying they are being framed.&nbsp;
“They are in a lot of pain and weep when recalling how he abused them,” Regmi Pokhrel told us. “They are angry and have filed a case against him, but they are also terrified. They know he is a powerful man and they have seen how our society treats women who speak up against abusers. Unless people speak up, perpetrators will be emboldened.”
Art and academia in Nepal simply reflect the power imbalances in society where people with intersecting identities experience worse forms of abuse. Theatre actors Raj Kumar Pudasaini, Rajan Khatiwada, and Sunil Pokhrel were called out during the #MeToo movement in the Nepali theatre scene in 2019. Even after the allegations Pokhrel went on to receive national awards, while others continued to work without repercussions.
“If you speak up against abusers, you gradually get sidelined from projects,” explained a theatre artist who wished anonymity fearing professional setbacks. “The theatre scene in Nepal is quite small, you just have to make peace with the perpetrators and work with them if you want to sustain yourself.”&nbsp;
In academia there is a history of faculty members sexually harassing students and getting away with it. After Tribhuvan University (TU) lecturer Krishna Bhattachan was accused of harassing women students, the university said it would follow Nepal’s sexual harassment law and set up a reporting mechanism. But nothing happened to the professor, who had already retired. Instead, he counter-accused the students of 'attacking the indigenous people’s movement with baseless allegations' as <a href="https://kathmandupost.com/letters/2019/01/29/bhattachan-responds">he told the Kathmandu Post in 2019</a>. He continues to be featured as a prominent speaker including at TU.
Other faculty members previously accused of sexual harassment include Jagadish Murti Koirala from TU, Bishnu Prasad Acharya from Ratna Rajya Campus, and Bodha Raj Tripathee from Lalitpur Madhyamik Vidhyalaya. A woman staff member from TU also filed a sexual abuse complaint against Dambar Chemjong from TU.
Prominent figures like <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-rise-and-fall-of-nims-purja">mountaineer Nims Purja</a> have been <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/sports/mountaineering-sexual-harassment-abuse-nims-purja.html">accused of sexual assault</a>, and cricketer Sandeep Lamichhane, actor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/celebrity-rape-case-spotlights-nepal-laws">Paul Shah</a>, and former speaker of Parliament <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mahara-arrested">Krishna Bahadur Mahara</a> have been accused of rape, but society-at-large has let off the alleged perpetrators amdist a larger debate about justice for survivors and punishment of perpetrators.&nbsp;
‘Gaushala-26’ is the court name given to the 18-year-old who accused Sandeep Lamichhane, former captain of Nepal’s national cricket team and skipper of Biratnagar Kings in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/here-comes-the-nepal-premier-league">ongoing Nepal Premier League</a>, of rape. She left the country citing society questioning her character affecting her mental health while Lamichhane got an outpouring of support. In May, the Patan High Court overturned a prior verdict that found Lamichhane guilty of rape and had sentenced him to eight years in prison. During the 23-month legal battle to pursue justice, Gaushala-26 faced threats of gang rape and acid attacks.&nbsp;
Exhausted by the struggle, Gaushala-26 sought to “move to a new world” where she could live free without hiding her identity.
Actress Samragyee Rajya Laxmi Shah in an Instagram video now deleted detailed the harassment she faced from a filmmaker during a movie shoot. She did not name any name but veteran actor Bhuwan KC filed a defamation case against Rana, but the court ruled that the charge lacked sufficient evidence.&nbsp;
Former Kathmandu mayor <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/theytoo">Keshav Sthapit also mocked the #MeToo movement</a>, calling accusations against him by journalists Rashmila Prajapati and Ujjwala Maharjan “a rape of men’s rights”.
Serial Abuse
Back at the Kalapremi Ceramics studio, another former student, 24-year-old Rajiv, says he felt the need to speak out after seeing his female classmates being abused.&nbsp;
“He frequently kissed them on their cheeks,” he told Nepali Times. “Whenever they walked into the studio he flailed his arms like a child asking for a hug. They awkwardly hugged him from the side, but he pulled them closer, held their chin, and kissed their cheeks.”&nbsp;
Rajiv says he also saw Kalapremi pull the women’s bra straps, touch their breasts, and slap their buttocks. The young students would freeze, not knowing how to react, and if they protested, he would say it was “normal in art”. Rajiv, 19 at the time like his classmates, remembers thinking perhaps the well-respected artist was right after all.
Another student, Luna, who took lessons at Kalapremi’s studio from 2020 to 2022 did try to confront the tutor after he made an obscene proposal to her. She recalls: “One day when the other students had left the studio and it was just the two of us, he told me that God had given him special artistic talent and he could transfer those powers to me. But to do that both of us will have to be naked, inside a dark room, and have sex.”
Luna, who was 18 then, was livid and told him she did not want any of his powers, but she says he laughed at her as if he was joking. She did not tell her family about the incident because she thought no one would believe her.&nbsp;
“They were all in awe of this famous artist and felt I should be grateful that to be learning sculpting from him,” she says. “I was scared to be alone with him in case he talked about sex again. My coping mechanism was to be rude so he wouldn’t try to come close to me.”
Seeing how some classmates were standing up to Kalapremi, Ekta too tried to push back against his advances, but she said he found ways to coerce her. Since Ekta, Rajiv, and Luna could not afford Kalapremi’s Rs30,000 monthly fee for lessons, he had offered them all a stipend to assist him in the studio.
“He had spondylosis and took me to his therapy sessions to learn massage techniques, then he often made me and other students massage him,” says Ekta. Whenever she refused, he would feign pain to make her feel sorry for him. “He would insist that I put my hands under his shirt so that I could massage him better,” she adds.
The art tutor often tried to “seduce sympathy” from Ekta by sharing how he had never been loved as a child and was “sexually frustrated” as an adult.&nbsp;
“At 7PM, he would pour himself Signature whiskey and immediately go off again about how he was sex-starved. I didn’t know how to respond. It took me time to realise alcohol was just an excuse to talk about sex,” Ekta says.
If convicted, Kalapremi could face financial penalty and/or a prison sentence of up to three years according to Section 224 of National Penal (Code) Act 2017.&nbsp;
Data suggests that victims of child sexual abuse on average take nearly 24 years to tell someone about their trauma, and some may never disclose it at all.&nbsp;
“In our culture, children are rarely taught about boundaries. They often react, show anger when adults pinch their cheeks. But adults insist they did it out of love, and force the children to accept it,” says Sita Lama, a psychotherapist at Manka Kura. “And even when someone touches them inappropriately they struggle to identify and verbalise it.”
When perpetrators claim to be “acting out of love”, Lama says survivors are likely to perceive it as something safe, rather than recognising it as abuse.&nbsp;
“It may take years for them to realise they were abused,” she explains. "And even when they become aware, the power imbalance with the abuser and the associated shame often prevents survivors from speaking up."
Other former students from the School of Art at Kathmandu University have also come forward years later, saying Kalapremi sexually abused them. As young adults, they felt his behaviour was off but were uncertain if it was inappropriate, illegal, or they did not know how to respond. After having understood that it was indeed abuse, they say they are speaking out now to protect others.&nbsp;
Amina Singh, a visiting faculty member at Kathmandu University, says there is no clause against sexual abuse in contracts of teachers, and there is no formal grievance handling mechanism for the students.&nbsp;
“So the only way students can to deal with sexual abuse is approach someone they trust,” she says.
Eight other former art students of Lalit Kala Campus and Srijana College of Fine Arts of Tribhuvan University and other private art studios in Kathmandu say they were also sexually abused by their art teachers. Three faculty members interviewed from these institutions said they saw the abuse, but felt it was futile to report it given how powerful the teachers were.
In the absence of a formal system, some longtime women artists warned each other about “problematic” artists. They shared &nbsp;a “heads-up” to be more cautious when collaborating with them, and avoided responding to their calls and texts after work hours.
To ensure art institutions are safe for all, galleries, museums, artist studios, and smaller art spaces need to develop policies on sexual harassment. This would include a code of conduct or studio policies that hold the leadership accountable and outline the principles of professional ethics.&nbsp;
Students and employees should inquire about accountability mechanisms for raising concerns, both formally and informally, advocates say.
Three years after Ekta left the ceramics studio, she learnt that Kalapremi had harassed many other women. Still trying to get a footing in the art industry, she attended a workshop in Kathmandu where women artists discussed ways to stay safe in the art sector.&nbsp;
Since it was a close-knit group Ekta opened up about how she felt violated and realised she was not alone, he had been abusing underprivileged students for years, and this was common knowledge among artists in Nepal.
Ekta says that even after she quit, Kalapremi continued sending her text messages like ‘I am thinking of you’, ‘Why have you stopped speaking with me’, or ‘I am waiting for your call’.&nbsp;
But what really forced her to act was when Ekta found out that he was sending similar texts to her younger sister.&nbsp;
“I’ve had enough,” she told us. “He abused me all these years but I won’t let him abuse my sister.” &nbsp;
Ekta, Rajiv and Luna are not the real names of the students.&nbsp;

‘Art Lover’ accused of sexual abuse

It was 8:15 in the evening of 25 March 1968 when everyone in the village of Batulechaur near Pokhara heard a deafening sound like thunder as a bright flashing object hurtled down to land in a field.&nbsp; That field belonged to Kul Timilsina, and the next morning he retrieved a sheet of metal about 2m by 1m and carried it home with the help of a few others, thinking it would be useful for his buffalo shed.&nbsp; Before he died at age 83 three years ago, Timilsina had told photo archivist Sunil Ulak that the black metal sheet was not rectangular and had rounded corners. There are a few witnesses still alive who have a clear recollection of the object that fell from the sky that night.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024120707128_75cc85aac56b9cc4a77366471f058d7b3eb6868776811b0923845c2d0a61f014" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="601" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>The field in Batulechaur belonging to Kul Timilsina where fragments of a flying object fell from the sky in 1968.</figcaption> </figure>  One of them is Timilsina’s wife Gyanu, who was 22 at the time. She had been at home, and remembers hearing the big bang and the sky becoming very bright. “We saw the thing in the field in the morning,” she told us. “It looked like a lid, a covering of some sort. The way it was stuck in the ground, it must have fallen from the sky. We thought we could use it to dry clothes on, and took it home.”&nbsp; Another witness is Kul Narayan Paudel. “I was only eight then. We ran to the field to see what had fallen. It was a four-sided metal sheet. The elders took it away, and I don't know what happened to it.” &nbsp; Ram Bahadur Baniya, a teacher at the local school, says he had heard the sheet had been brought to the school, and later handed over to the Zonal Commissioner at the time, Nanda Prasad Malla. “But that is all hearsay,” he says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024120707128_0bf207a12063fb8155b3c8d9a00a94887b126380c9e0627527c84cf5e1101f54" data-rendition-name="original" width="1170" height="610" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Gyanu Timilsina, wife of Kul Timilsina.</figcaption> </figure>  There are two versions of what happened to Kul Timilsina’s metal sheet. One is that an American Peace Corp Volunteer teaching at the nearby Bindyabasini School took it, and another is that it was handed over to the government. Recently declassified Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and US State Department documents from the time say that the US Embassy in Kathmandu tracked down the object two years later and had it shipped back to the US. A telegram from the Department of State and Department of Defense tagged as ‘MOON DUST / Space Fragments’ dated 1 March 1972 stated: ‘1. Restored space fragment will be on board Embassy support flight 115 arriving Kathmandu on or about March 10. Fragment is packed in shipping crate (cargo no. 72-33365) marked in care of DAO.&nbsp; 2. State and Defense representatives examined fragments prior to shipment finding restoration acceptable.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241207071212_929d903ee06d41baa4f6040e981cd7c7d7bd75cc9c37c9b617d307fc8538d2df" data-rendition-name="original" width="856" height="568" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> <figcaption>Declassified CIA documents about the investigation into the object sighted in Pokhara. </figcaption> </figure>  The documents show that the US government, military and intelligence agencies investigated this incident thoroughly when it occurred, and have continued to revisit it ever since, as recently as five years ago. What is even more intriguing is that the object that fell in Pokhara was not the only unidentified space object that fell to earth that year. There were similar sightings of objects falling from the sky in Ladakh, Sikkim and Bhutan between 19 February and 25 March 1968.&nbsp; These mysteries were the subject of a CIA investigation in 1968 titled ‘<a href="https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP81R00560R000100070007-8.pdf">Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects in Ladakh, Nepal, Sikkim and Bhutan</a>’, and the report is part of the recent online declassification of 800,000 top-secret documents from the period.&nbsp; &nbsp;Although unidentified flying objects (UFOs) have a connotation now of being alien craft, it could be pieces of satellite, missile, rocket or even aircraft. The CIA report documents six sightings in 1968 and quotes local sources as describing all of them having similar characteristics: bright blue or red streaks in the sky accompanied by loud sounds like lightning and thunder and objects falling to the ground. Aside from the metallic object that was found in Batlechaur, there were other items also found nearby in Tallakot, Tureypasal, Armalakot and Maidan. Whatever the object was, it seems to have disintegrated even before it hit the ground.&nbsp; The CIA report records the first sighting on 19 February 1968 in various parts of Sikkim and Olangchung Gola and Ghunsa in eastern Nepal. The light was said to be ‘long and thin’ and giving out ‘green and red light’. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241207071212_c3c825027d966a2aedc846970390eebe063957503c7eacc8e01e0517843f9bbb" data-rendition-name="original" width="892" height="596" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara "> </figure>  Two days later on 21 February, a soundless blue object was seen traveling fast across the sky above Thimphu in Bhutan. Then on 4 March there were multiple daytime sightings or white streaks in the sky at Chang La Pass, Fukche and Koyul in Ladakh. There were more sightings in Ladakh on the very day fragments fell near Pokhara on 25 March 1968.&nbsp; After the sightings in Pokhara, rumours started flying in Kathmandu that these were aliens trying to land on Earth, it could be Russian or Chinese spy planes or satellites, and some even say it as a sign from heaven that the end of the world was near. This was at the height of the Cold War. The Russians and Americans were testing their thermonuclear devices as well as intercontinental ballistic missile delivery systems. The Washington-Beijing rapprochement had not yet happened, and China was making quick progress testing atomic bombs. Within two years after its first atomic test, in 1966 China exploded its first hydrogen bomb at the Lop Nur site in Xinjiang, 3,000km to the north from Nepal. After neary six decades, what is still intriguing is that all the sightings within a few months of each other in 1968 were along the Himalayan arc bordering Tibet: from Bhutan, Sikkim Nepal, to Ladakh. The US military intelligence seems to have concluded that this was not a coincidence and there were frequent research trips to the site in Pokhara by American officials in the months after the incident. With the help of the Royal Nepal Army, the region north of Pokhara was thoroughly searched.&nbsp; A confidential memo dated 25 June 1968 by Jerry C Trippy to a ‘Mr Farley’ mentions that the US Air Force’s Foreign Technology Division had decided that the debris could be important because it may be related to a Chinese missile test or a Soviet ‘Vehicle Venik’ rocket.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20241207071216_feb5425692dc36b20187de4e4fcc2ce9fd12b6d9e1b8724398e50bcdbf9032fe" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  On 28 August 1968 the US Embassy in Kathmandu sent a letter to Washington DC saying that the object could be of Soviet origin, possibly from when the rocket carrying the ‘Kosmos 208’ satellite re-entered the atmosphere. But why were the fragments falling to earth several weeks apart, and in the same region? No one knows where the metal sheet that Kul Timilsina recovered is now. It was definitely packed in a crate and taken to the US, and although it is rumoured that it was returned that is not very likely. Archivist Sunil Ulak heard from the Timilsina family that CIA officials had returned to the site five years ago. &nbsp; Interest in UFOs peaked in the US in the 1950s, with the Cold War space race and tests of atomic weapons and delivery rockets. CIA and scientists were being sent to investigate sightings, both publicly and privately. Could the Pokhara fragments as well as the sightings in Ladakh and Bhutan actually be alien craft falling to earth? The renewal in interest in space travel in large part due to Elon Musk’s SpaceX, UFOs and sightings are again subjects of public interest.&nbsp; Even 57 years later, even if there was definitive proof about whether the Batlechaur fragment was from a Chinese missile or a soviet rocket, it has not been made public in documents declassified so far. We may never know.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241207071216_b6938795f40731e7657fd6dcbb3cf460a326186a15eb11d4f832f602201ff598" data-rendition-name="original" width="642" height="320" loading="lazy" alt="UFO over Pokhara"> </figure>  Sunil Ulak speculates if the debris actually came from an American aircraft, perhaps on an intel mission upon China. “Which could explain why they were so thorough in collecting the fragments in Pokhara,” he says. But that still does not explain the multiple sightings weeks apart in 1968.&nbsp; Indeed, US military aircraft were at that time flying frequent night-time missions from air force bases in India to supply weapons to Khampa guerrilla camps in Nepal located north of Pokhara in Mustang. It could very well be that the Chinese shot down one such aircraft. The other sightings could have been contrails of US spy planes, or Chinese anti-aircraft missiles.&nbsp; There were quite a few developments regarding UFOs in 2024. In a US congressional hearing in July, former intelligence officer David Grusch claimed that the government had long been involved in a program to investigate and retrieve non-human craft crashes, and then try to reverse engineer them. However Grusch did not show any evidence.&nbsp; The UAP Disclosure Act of 2024 was signed into law by Joe Biden in December 2023. It plans to oversee the public disclosure of UFO information. However, there is a clause in it that prevents disclosure if it would cause threats to military defense, intelligence operations or foreign relations.&nbsp; It is unlikely that the declassified documents about sightings in the Himalayan will cause any real surprise about definite evidence of alien life even if it was found. It seems humanity will continue, at least for now, to wonder about curious lights in the sky and whether there is anybody out there.&nbsp;

UFO over Pokhara

Four international names in architecture, Shigeru Ban, Rem Koolhaas, Tadao Ando and Louis Isadore Kahn, all left their mark in Nepal. But despite their best intentions, the ambitious designs fizzled out. Ban, Koolhaas and Ando won Pritzkers, the best known international award for architecture, and Kahn could have won it had the prize been given in his lifetime. But their designs fell short of transforming Nepali architecture and did not help inspire local architects.&nbsp; Why were these four ‘starchitects’ unable to pull off their Nepal projects and enrich the country with exemplary contemporary designs? The failure, especially the violation of Kahn’s design, also raises larger questions about how much contemporary architecture is valued in Nepal.&nbsp; Whereas Sri Lanka had Geoffrey Bawa and Bangladesh had Mazharul Islam, the pioneers of contemporary architecture in Nepal have had far less public appreciation. One wonders if Nepali architecture only refers to the monuments and heritage of the past. Nepal does have examples of outstanding modern architecture such as the &nbsp;पाङ्रे घर ‘Wheel House’ and खुट्टे घर &nbsp;‘House on Legs’ by Shankar Nath Rimal in the 1960s. These are the best examples of how some Nepali designers successfully tailored modern architecture to the Nepali context.&nbsp; Ten years ago, Nepal had three architecture magazines, SPACES, praXis and Business Architecture, but none of these survived. This newspaper has prominently covered contemporary architecture, and the built environment, but these are exceptions in Nepal’s media. There have been a few encouraging signs. The 2024 exhibition Modern Encounters in Architecture in Kathmandu Valley (1945-1985) at the Taragaon Museum had many visitors and its accompanying book is a seminal document.&nbsp; In 2023, the Mountain Architecture Dialogue (MAD) that focused on examples of good-practice sustainable contemporary architecture for the mountainous terrains of Nepal was a packed event with over 300 young architects, engineers, environmentalists and architecture students. <h2>Shigeru Ban</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe.png" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2024122003128_8bb8dde080c5698c2585966bef27ce4c08e4ee488d3432b2caac98b9de762dfe" data-rendition-name="original" width="990" height="1074" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  Shigeru Ban had already built a name for himself in post-disaster construction when he came to Nepal following the 2015 earthquakes in which 500,000 people lost their homes. The basic design and its 3D-rendered images were reviewed in upbeat articles on DOMUS, Architectural Review, Dezeen, and Arch Daily.&nbsp; But his signature cardboard tubes could not handle the monsoon and the roof structure had to be re-designed with timber. Only two shelters were completed in Sindupalchok, and only one of them still stands at the Hyatt Regency grounds today, as Ban’s souvenir to Nepal.&nbsp; <h2>Rem Koolhaas</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2024122003128_58afec9b57accfa38327af0936648c6eb2f2e11ff18f1af8ca27383dc57dc222" data-rendition-name="original" width="750" height="722" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  The designs of Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas have a specific signature: bold shapes and an intriguing architectural typology that challenges standard building blocks. Some designs even seem to defy gravity, like the CCTV headquarters in Beijing: an angular, continuous geometry of glass and steel.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20241220031216_a18dc8a8d6b97bc6fa9d590036cf374f9dc3709c699fe5c5787304bbd05cb17d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1812" height="1168" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Rem Koolhaas' design for Ullen's School in Khumaltar.</figcaption> </figure>  Koolhaas was commissioned by Belgian billionaire Guy Ullens to design a new building for Ullens School in Khumaltar. The most prominent feature is its vertical glass block staircase. Some interior spaces have lowered windowsills, which provide ample views and daylight. But the school building has gone unremarked in Nepal. <h2>Tadao Ando</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675.png" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20241220031212_cc16bd6feb8be07a7198285b847a45d2126dc3a479e0cc7370331861fc544675" data-rendition-name="original" width="626" height="628" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> </figure>  Doctors providing aid to victims of the Great Hanshin earthquake in 1995 in Japan requested Tadao Ando, who had donated his Pritzker money to the victims, to also make a design for a hospital in Butwal.&nbsp; Ando’s contribution would be pro-bono and the construction was funded by the Hanshin Earthquake victims and by the popular Japanese newspaper Mainichi, as a tribute to Nepali doctors. The first block that Ando designed for the Siddhartha Children and Women’s Hospital (SCWH) was the out-patient department. He quickly realised that he would not be able to pull off structures with his typical style of smooth-finished, high-quality concrete.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20241220031216_73ec0950d52320277ccc81d4a66fa6aa6acb38141e7b7633683e4cf8179dc579" data-rendition-name="original" width="1594" height="958" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Tadao Ando's Siddhartha Children and Women Hospital in Butwal.</figcaption> </figure>  Ando wrote in the online architectural catalog Architectuul, that the two main problems with the project were costs and the availability of local technology. ‘It became a facility that has a slightly different expression from the buildings I have completed so far,’ he wrote. He designed a colonnade for the west façade that would provide shelter from harsh sunlight, and the exposed brick walls were locally manufactured bricks.&nbsp; The hospital is characterised by modernist cuboidal massing, but the outer brick façades now appear unintentionally badly weathered by monsoons. The interiors lack both sufficient natural light and natural ventilation. <h2>Louis I Kahn</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f.png" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024122003128_612e199d62fb3e72b6b8f6a936b0fa0451d8c0aa3d831c071320bf423ee3d67f" data-rendition-name="original" width="694" height="926" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal NT"> </figure>  American architect Louis I Kahn had experience of projects in South Asia, and several were under construction when he died suddenly in 1974. Amongst these were the National Assembly complex in Dhaka, the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad and the Family Planning and Maternal Child Welfare Centre in Kathmandu.&nbsp; Kahn had started the USAID funded project in Nepal by developing a master plan for the government institutional zone in Kathmandu, which included a building for the Health Ministry. The building’s façade in exposed brick has deeply recessed vertical windows for shading.&nbsp; The balancing of accentuated horizontal lines in the brickwork with the verticality of the larger composition is the work of a master. The brick walls rise up into punctured parapet walls at the roof level. These square apertures ‘frame the sky’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf.png" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20241220031216_69c2e4972dbe38773e0a3a3f1129485c9c87033ee84cd454e24ae0dc772d05cf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1924" height="1242" loading="lazy" alt="Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal"> <figcaption>Louis Kahn's plan for the Ministry of Health.</figcaption> </figure>  When Kahn died, only the eastern half of the building was finished. The Western part was never built and Nepal’s bureaucrats decided that without paint, the exposed brick façade was not finished. Then in 1995, citing roof leakage and a space crunch, the Health Ministry added a floor.&nbsp; The frames-to-the-sky in the roof parapet were converted into windows and topped off with a sloping roof of corrugated steel sheets, whose only virtue was that it was cost-effective.&nbsp; Kahn’s orthogonal composition, which clean horizontal and vertical lines, was desecrated despite a public outcry and legal challenges from architects and cultural organisations. A version of this article was first published in HIMAL Southasian. Illustrations by Varun S Bapu.

Forgotten international starchitects in Nepal

When Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) president Rabi Lamichhane was arrested in October on charges of defrauding depositors of cooperatives, the party’s vice president Swarnim Wagle gifted him Fareed Zakaria’s book, Age of Revolutions.
Since then, Lamichhane has been shunted around from Kathmandu to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Pokhara to attend police investigations and court proceedings. He was being flown to Birganj via Kathmandu on Buddha Air on Monday. There is another pending case in Janakpur.
Human rights groups and civil society have criticised the government for hounding Lamichhane with inhumane treatment that borders on physical torture. The two parties in the coalition, Nepali Congress (NC) and the UML, see Lamichhane’s RSP as a potentially formidable challenge to their power.
Even if the fraud charges against Lamichhane are true, the Nepali public is increasingly looking at the government’s actions through the police and courts as political vendetta.
Despite all the travelling, sometimes by plane and often by road at night, Lamichhane appears to be in high spirits, waving to supporters who often gather if they know he is going to be driven around. A social media video shows him giving high fives to fellow passengers on a recent flight to Pokhara.&nbsp;
In the past weeks, streets in Pokhara have erupted with parallel protests by Lamichhane’s supporters as well as depositors of cooperatives who lost their savings to the scam.&nbsp;
Although family visits are allowed, prison officials in Pokhara told Nepali Times that not many people visit Lamichhane these days. He added, “When he does get visitors, he asks them to bring him books.”
Lamichhane is currently Nepal’s most high-profile public figure in custody, and highlights the stark difference between how influential prisoners are treated compared to ordinary inmates.
There are six prison cells at Kaski District Police Office’s two-story detention centre, three on each floor. And while authorities pack prisoners into already overcrowded cells, Lamichhane has an entire room on the second floor to himself.&nbsp;
He has also been allowed to call his family every few days. Other prisoners are not permitted phone calls except for emergencies.
Meanwhile, Lamichhane’s former business partner Chhabilal Joshi, an ex-Deputy Inspector General of Police with whom he established his Gorkha Media Network, is in custody under the same charges in the prison cell next to him.
Lamichhane is accused of siphoning off depositors' money to the tv network in which he was part-owner and anchor. &nbsp;
Both Lamichhane and Joshi are able to buy food from the police canteen instead of being served the regular meal like other prisoners. Joshi has also given his statement to authorities in Rupandehi and Kathmandu for his alleged role in the scam. Lamichhane is yet to be presented in Kathmandu for questioning.
While he was in custody at the Kathmandu District Police Complex, Joshi expressed his desire to sleep in a police officer’s office, reportedly assuring authorities that he would not run away and he was entitled to certain facilities as a former officer of the law.
“He seemed to be under the impression that he is still a police officer,” says a source at the Kathmandu District Police. “We made it clear to him that as someone accused of a crime, he was not entitled to special treatment.”
Former ministers Balkrishna Khand and Top Bahadur Rayamajhi, and ex-home secretary Tek Narayan Pandey, who were arrested in connection with the fake refugee scam last year, were similarly housed in the offices of law enforcement officials instead of prison cells. Khand has since been released after six months in jail.
While there is no legal provision to keep high-ranking officials in separate detention centres when they are arrested, authorities granting them special facilities is not uncommon. Law enforcement officials say VIP detainees expect preferential treatment while in police custody.
Among those is former Kosi Province minister Lila Ballav Adhikari, who was arrested from Biratnagar on 10 November over his alleged involvement in human trafficking and brought to Kathmandu. Adhikari had flown to Japan without government approval with three individuals on 29 October to attend a cultural conference, but had been sent back to Nepal from Narita.&nbsp;
His three companions were arrested at Kathmandu airport upon their arrival, but Adhikari was able to exit unscathed from the VIP lounge. Adhikari had resigned as the Kosi Province Minister for Internal Affairs and Law when it became public that his companions had been taken into custody, and was himself arrested shortly after. He has since been cleared by the courts.
Throughout his detention, Adhikari was kept separately from other inmates. Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) Basant Rajouri, head of the Bhadrakali complex, says that while there is no separate detention area for VIPs, some detainees are kept separately depending on the nature of their crime.
However, sources say that arrangements were made for retired judges and others to visit Adhikari frequently worked at the office of a Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) during his time in custody.&nbsp;
“He used to constantly pester the authorities to let him sit outside in the sun, and to be able to use the police officer’s shower area,” added an officer.
Adhikari was released on 25 November after the government prosecutor’s office decided not to charge him in a move that was seen to expose the government’s double standards.
Over at Kathmandu’s Dilli Bazar Prison, former Kist Bank CEO Kamal Gyawali emerges from his prison cell into the courtyard of the prison’s ‘Ka (क)’ block every morning with a thick book in his hands, ready to give his daily sermon.
With his long beard, Gyawali, who is serving a prison sentence for banking fraud, looks the part of a religious guru as he implores his rapt listeners to “walk the right path, abandon bad thoughts and turn to scripture and spirituality”.&nbsp;
Afterward, the attendees gather to discuss politics and current affairs. Inmates at his daily sermons at the prison include other high-profile detainees, including former MP Ichchha Raj Tamang, who is in jail for money laundering and cooperatives fraud, former joint secretary Chudamani Sharma, who was convicted of corruption, as well as NC leader Chandra Bahadur Lama and Krishna Bahadur Upreti of the UML both of whom are on trial for embezzling billions of rupees.
Victims of the cooperatives scam that former lawmaker Tamang was involved in have made trips to the prison and requested visits, but he has refused to meet with any of them.
“Tamang often complains that the state has prevented him from returning the money to the victims by locking him up,” says a police officer at the Dili Bazar jail.
“All you hear every day from the VIP prisoners is that they have been framed,” adds the officer. “No one admits that they were involved in misdeeds.”
But while most high-profile prisoners complain about prison conditions, one exception is former provincial lawmaker Deepak Manange, who is serving a sentence at Dilli Bazar Jail for attempted murder.
“He is the happiest prisoner here,” says a warden. “Unlike the others, he doesn’t claim to have been framed, in fact he doesn’t seem to care that he is in prison.”
Manange is detained in the ‘Kha (ख)’ block of the prison complex, which he renovated at his own expense. The block previously housed female prisoners, but Manange used his influence to transfer them elsewhere. He faces no shortage of visitors, who range from political leaders to people from the underworld.
Along with Manange, other well-known prisoners in this block include Nepal Telecom Managing Director Sunil Poudel, and former executive director of the Surakshan Printing Centre Bikal Poudel, who are serving time for corruption.
Former prisoners at Dilli Bazar prison include ex-ministers Khum Bahadur Khadka and Shyam Sundar Gupta, NC leader Ganesh Lama, Maoist MP Balkrishna Dhungel, Nagarik Unmukti Party leader Resham Chaudhary, as well as former IGs Ramesh Chand Thakuri, Om Bikram Rana, and Hem Bahadur Gurung.
Section 54 of Nepal’s Prison Act assigns each prison’s internal administration the
responsibility of governing its prisoners, which means the more favourable the jail management is, the more comfortable it is for prisoners.
Dilli Bazar prison has been the prison of choice for many high-ranking prisoners, especially those convicted of white collar crimes, due to its more accommodating administrators. The prison, which has the capacity to house 700 inmates, is also less crowded than other jails.
Anuj Bhattarai, spokesperson of the Department of Prison Management, says that there is no legal classification in Nepal for felons to be assigned prisons based on the nature of their crimes.
“That Dilli Bazar Jail has a higher number of prisoners convicted of crimes like corruption is most likely a coincidence,” says Bhattarai. “There is no provision for influential people to be able to choose where they will be incarcerated.”&nbsp;
Translated by Shristi Karki from the Nepali original published in himalkhabar.com